


Despite the Weather

by Lightningpelt



Category: No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:38:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6482521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Lightningpelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nezumi loses his battle against a leaky roof, and Shion knows just what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despite the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> Happy No. 6 day! Hope you enjoy the drabble. :3 
> 
> Please consider checking out my writing blog at niaowrites.tumblr!

Leaky roofs were a thousand times worse when one lived underground.

"Shit... shit..." Nezumi hadn't said anything except muttered curses for easily an hour. He had also been up on bookshelves and chairs for easily an hour, patching one leak just in time for another to spring up, then patching that one in time for two more to appear. "Shit...!"

"Nezumi..." Shion tried to sound soothing, hurrying to move piles of books from spot to spot lest they get wet. But the other didn't respond to him.

"Shit!"

Leaping down from his perch, Nezumi spun and stalked angrily past Shion toward the next leak—at least, he _tried_ to stalk angrily past Shion toward the next leak. What he ended up doing was stepping squarely in one of the buckets they had set out to catch drips. The splash seemed to startle him as much as stepping into the water, and he gave one last yelp of, "Shit!" as he jumped, the action itself causing him to trip over the bucket and go sprawling in a spectacularly undignified way. As a final insult, the overturned bucket showered him with its contents and he ended up soaking wet as well as flat on his face.

Shion couldn't help but laugh.

Nezumi, looking thoroughly defeated with his sopping clothes clinging to his shivering frame—shivering, most likely, with anger and frustration as much as cold—dragged himself into his hands and knees, kicking the bucket off his foot and in Shion's general direction.

"If _His Majesty_ would do me the honor of letting me scrape my _dignity_ up off the _floor_..." he said pensively, but then his shoulders began to shake with laughter. " _God_ I can't _believe_ I just did that..."

"I can't believe it either," Shion admitted, between giggles.

As Nezumi dragged himself up to sit dejectedly on the floor, Shion fetched a towel from the bathroom. With a mutter that might have been a "thank you," Nezumi accepted it and began to wipe himself off. Shion, after a moment of hesitation, sat down beside him.

"You're shivering," he observed matter-of-factly, and Nezumi scoffed.

"I hadn't noticed. Who would've thought that being soaking wet in the middle of a winter storm would make you shiver?"

Shion made a face.

"Sorry," Nezumi said half-heartedly, and then shook his head. "But really, I'll be fine when I'm dry. Were lucky to have shelter, you know. We're in no danger of dying tonight—no more than usual, at least."

Shion softened slightly, then took the other's arm and pulled him to his feet. Nezumi, though blatant in his confusion and hesitation, allowed it.

"We won't be able to do much more about the leaks," the white-haired boy said reasonably, leading his housemate toward the bed they shared.

"Shi—Shion, no!" Nezumi began to object as Shion pushed him down onto the mattress. "I'll get the bedclothes wet. I'll get _you_ all wet!"

"Then put on some dry clothes!" Shion ordered, throwing a pair of nightclothes at his housemate.

"My, my, aren't we feeling bossy tonight, Highness?" Nezumi asked sorely, but his smirk was good natured. Once he had changed, he held out his arms as if displaying himself for inspection. "So? Do I meet Majesty's standards now?"

"Barely, but it'll do," Shion sniffed, and then laughed as Nezumi lunged and dragged him down onto the bed. "Nezumi...!! Nezumi, hey...! Hey, I have to blow out the lamp, Nezumi...!"

As if some deity had heard his protests, a well-place drip from the ceiling extinguished the lamp with a fizzle that made both boys jump as they were plunged into darkness. Then, laughing softly, Nezumi wrestled Shion into a closer embrace.

"There goes that excuse," he growled playfully in the other's ear, and Shion squeaked with protest.

"Nezumi...!"

Somehow—witchcraft, maybe—Nezumi managed to maneuver the two of them on the bed so that they ended up wrapped in a tight bundle of blankets—cuddled together in the center of the burrito-like construct—without releasing his grip on Shion. But the white-haired boy had stopped struggling, and sighed softly as Nezumi rested his forehead against his own. His hair was still damp, and made Shion shiver slightly when it brushed his skin.

"How's this?"

"... Perfect."

"'Perfect,'" Nezumi scoffed softly. "Only you would say something like that."

"Is that a bad thing?" Shion challenged, and felt Nezumi shrug.

"Not really. It's just so stupidly _you_ that it's... it's perfect."

Warmed beyond the scope of the embrace and the blankets, Shion nodded slightly into Nezumi's chest. He felt a face press into his hair.

"I wouldn't have it any other way... Shion..." Nezumi murmured.

And it was in such a way that they fell asleep, the cold and the rain outside not near bold enough to try to intrude on their world.


End file.
